Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Gambia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Prince Buster to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
T.S.O.L.,
R.M.O.,
Livin' Joy,
Basic Channel,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Juan Atkins,
Erykah Badu,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kas Product,
Model 500,
Ronnie Foster,
The Misunderstood,
Crooked Eye,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ornette Coleman,
The Vogues,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Clear Light,
Harpers Bizarre,
Idris Muhammad,
Sound Behaviour,
Sällskapet,
The Young Rascals,
The Cure,
John Coltrane,
Gabor Szabo,
Ohio Players,
Bobby Byrd,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
John Cale,
Nas,
Malaria!,
Bang On A Can,
The Searchers,
Porter Ricks,
The Fall,
The Stooges,
Danielle Patucci,
Sister Nancy,
Pagans,
Eve St. Jones,
KRS-One,
Gang Green,
Don Cherry,
The United States of America,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Funky Four + One,
Sun City Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Remains,
LL Cool J,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Mojo Men,
Barry Ungar,
Eddi Front,
Theoretical Girls,
The Trojans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Brothers Johnson,
Minnie Riperton,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.